These Thoughts of You
by T.C. Geralds
Summary: Everything can become clear in a moment, as Harry and Hermione are about to find out the hard way.
1. HER

            Disclaimer: Oh how I wish I was brilliant enough to have come up with Harry 

Potter. I didn't though – it belongs to the insanely talented J.K. Rowling and her 

Publishers. This is being written merely for love of the characters.

Part 1: HER

Its funny, the clarity that comes with knowing you're about to die. You can look back on your life and see, in an instant, all the things you should have done differently. Paths not taken, roads not traveled, decisions bungled, all of it. A strange peace fills me even now, amidst a lingering pain and sense of self-satisfaction. My life seems so clear to me now, at the end.

I have lived a full life; I know it. I may be young, but in my seventeen years I have lived a lifetime. I've known joy, sadness, pain, and passion. There are few witches or wizards who could claim to have accomplished what I have. How many have stood at the side of the Boy Who Lived and faced the Dark Lord time after time? How many would have been able to help in the fight against Voldemort as I have? How many have had the amazing friends I have, and seen the wondrous sights I have?

The crowning achievement of my life would have been two days from now, when I graduated at the top of my class at Hogwarts and received a full scholarship to the most prestigious college for the study of magic in all of England. It won't happen now, of course, as I won't be around. I am, after all, a very smart witch, and I know how serious my injuries are. 

If you were to ask most people at the end of their lives what regrets they had, I imagine you'd get a long list of things that they would have liked to do differently. Not so for me. There are few things in my life I would change, except for one. It is my only real regret – ah, but what a regret it is! You see, I never told my best friend that I love him. No, I don't mean a platonic love. I mean a soul-destroying, can't stand being apart from you, and want to share the rest of my life with you kind of love. He'll never know now, and my regret for that is hard to put into words. I am sure there are those that would find that funny, Hermione Granger not being able to articulate a feeling. It is true though – my unspoken love for Harry Potter is something I find difficult to properly express. 

I think I knew for sure how I felt during our third year, when we were riding on the back of a hippogriff together, desperate to save Harry's godfather. I had always felt comfortable with Harry; always enjoyed his company. While we were flying through the air, the wind cold on my face and my heart hammering in my chest, I felt it. It struck home in me with so much force I gasped. There was a _rightness to it all that I couldn't ignore. I belonged with him, and he with me. I had been by his side since the beginning, and together we had overcome the worst that life had thrown at us. The realization that rushed through me in that one moment was clear – I loved him. And I've lived secretly with that love in my heart for more than two years._

Harry is one of those special people that is so full of life he influences all those around him. You can't help but get caught up in his enthusiasm and passion for living. It makes sense, really – most of his life growing up he was not _allowed to live. When he finally made it to Hogwarts and was able to experience life, he grabbed it with both hands. That kind of joy for life is contagious. You want to know it. You want to know **him.**_

There is an innocence about him. He's been through so much, and yet he can still look at life and smile. There has been so much pain in his life, and yet he still shares the best parts of himself with everyone he cares for. He doesn't care that he could be hurt by someone. I've never met anyone so emotionally honest in my life. Harry doesn't try to put his best foot forward, doesn't try to impress anyone. He's just…..Harry. And I love him for it.

It's getting quite cold. I imagine that means my time is getting short. I can hear sounds around me; someone is getting close to where I am lying. Is it him? I hope not. I'd hate for him to have to see me before I am gone – I would spare him that pain if I could. There has been too much pain for him already. If only there had been some other way to save him! I don't regret my decision. He is too important to too many people. I had to save him. He'll hate me a little for it, I know. That's ok. I smile as I imagine happier times with him, seeing that famous smile. And those eyes…..I always loved his eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and if he is any indication it's true. When I look into those eyes I see the most beautiful person. And I never told him. I'm such a coward. 

There have been many times I almost told him. There was the end of fourth year, after Cedric was killed, at the platform. I've never seen him so lost. I wanted to take him in my arms and make all the pain go away. I kissed him that day, on the cheek. How he didn't see in my eyes that I loved him then I'll never know. He is a man I suppose, and men never see what's right in front of their faces when it comes to women. It would be endearing if it weren't so damn frustrating. Listen to me – my thoughts are a mess. 

We would have been so good together. There had been Cho, but she wasn't for him and thankfully he realized it. Who knows him better than I? I know when he is hurting. When he needs someone to talk to, I am there. When I need someone, he somehow knows and comes to me without being asked. Maybe I should be scared at the connection that has grown between us, but I'm not. When I am with him, the rest of the world goes away, and it is just us. Why didn't I ever say anything? What we have is special. What we have happens once in a lifetime, if at all. It could have been so much more. And I wasted it.

Oh God, he's here. I can't see him, but I know it's him. I'd know him anywhere, just from his scent. He's crying. I can feel his tears on my face. He must be holding me, but I can't feel it. Why did he have to get to me so soon? I don't want him to see me die. At least he **is **here, which means I succeeded. He is still alive. Thank God.

Maybe I will tell him now. Would that make things harder? I don't think I can keep it from him any longer. Can I even make my lips move, my mouth work? I barely feel anything. Yes, I will tell him. I have to say it once, and he has to hear it. I won't leave without telling him. He needs to know. 

"I love you, Harry Potter" I whisper. It feels good saying it. I can't see his reaction, but that's ok. He knows. I know he knows. In the growing light, I smile. I love you, Harry. I always will.

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Author's Note: This is a bit of an experiment. I wrote it over the span of two hours in one sitting, and won't have it beta read. 

Coming next: Part 2 - HIM 


	2. HIM

'If I should lose you  
The stars would fall from the skies  
If I should lose you  
The leaves would wither and die  
  
The birds in May time  
Would sing a lonely refrain  
And I would wander around  
Hating the sound of rain  
  
With you beside me  
No wind in winter would blow  
With you beside me  
A rose would bloom in the snow  
  
I gave you my love  
But I was living a dream  
And living would seem in vain  
If I lost you'

-Nina Simone

Part 2 – HIM

          I've heard people say that there are a few select moments in your life when everything makes sense – when all the fractured, myriad pieces come together to form an understandable whole. Time seems to slow down. Everything comes into sharp focus. Almost anything is possible. I know now that it's all true.  

            My mind is still reeling from everything I've seen in the past hour. It is hard to make sense of it all; I don't even think I can try yet. The only thing that I can seem to focus on is the body I am standing over. **Her body. I can see her chest rise and fall, but her breathing is so weak. So weak! This can't be happening. It isn't meant to be this way. I've _won. The victory is supposed to be ours; all of ours! The fabulous trio, able to take on the world! God knows in the past, with Ron and Hermione at my side, I have felt like I was able to do anything. So why is she here dying when I have succeeded?_**

            There are sounds all around me, but they seem distant. Somewhere nearby, I know the Order is mopping up what remains of the Dark Lord's followers. Tom Riddle's body, or what remains of it, is back where I left it. He won't be coming back from where I have sent him this time. I am still amazed at the rage that had welled up within me when he hit her with the spell. The spell that had been meant for me. The spell that she had stepped in front of. She had done it to give me time to finish him. She sacrificed herself for me. Why did she do that? Oh God, Hermione. Why?

            She is as light as a feather in my arms. There's so much blood! It is all over my robes now, but I don't care. The only thing that matters now is to make her comfortable and stop the bleeding. There are excellent healers in the Order, and if I can keep her alive a little longer she will be ok. If I keep telling myself that maybe I will believe it.

            Her lips move, and I am stunned. I can't believe she's still conscious. She is straining to say something, and I can tell the effort is costing her. I lean my head down to listen. If she is trying this hard, it must be important. I feel the slight air of her breath as she whispers five words. And with those five words, my world shatters.

            Cradling her in my arms, I weep. I've never cried in her presence before – I imagine she would be surprised to see it. Together we have faced some of the worst things the world can throw at you, and not once have I shed a tear. One of those moments is upon me. Everything is so clear. I've been a fool. She loves me. She loves me too.

            I'm not sure when I knew for certain that I loved Hermione Granger. I bet if you asked any woman when they knew about their man, they could tell you. Women notice those things. Sometimes I am amazed at how much more they see about certain things than men. For me, there was no lightning bolt. For me, it came in stages.

            The first time I really thought about it was when Ron and I were in the hospital wing together with her during second year. Seeing her lying on that bed petrified was worse than being locked in the cupboard. I _missed her. It wasn't like missing a friend I hadn't seen in a while. It was more like feeling part of me was gone. _

            After that I was a little scared. Growing up, the only strong emotions I felt were all negative. I wasn't used to caring for anyone so much. For awhile I fooled myself into thinking that is all my feelings were – the caring of a friend for a friend. Then the end of third year came.

            Riding that Hippogriff, I felt it again. I was _supposed_ to be there with her. It was right. Things happened so quickly that night, I never really had a chance to dwell on how I felt. Another of those moments……and one I didn't see for what it was. I think the final step, however, came in our fourth year.

            When I saw her on the arm of Victor Krum, I discovered a new feeling – jealousy. I couldn't fool myself after that. I wanted her with me, but I knew that it was too late. I'd lost my chance. The food that night tasted like ashes. I loved Hermione, and she'd never know. There was Victor. After that night, I was pretty sure Ron had feelings for her as well. I stayed silent. Why do we see these things when it is too late?

            For over two years now, I have been the best actor in the world. I've pretended she is still only a very good friend. Anyone who knows how intelligent Hermione is can tell you that is no small accomplishment. It is incredible that she hasn't seen right through me. There have been moments when I thought for sure she had. All the times when my eyes lingered a bit too long or my hands held on a bit too tightly. How I've tortured myself. How long has she felt the same way?

            Being around her makes me happy. She _knows_ me, and I know her. Sometimes Ron jokes that we talk more with our eyes than with our mouths, and it is true. Little things really – I'll pass her the salt before she asks, or she will quietly hug me after a particularly grueling potions test. Being near her makes me feel alive. It's so easy to feel love. If only it were as easy to tell the person you love how you feel.

            I can feel her trembling in my arms. She's so cold. My arms hold her tightly, and my tears fall softly on her face. I trace the path of her cheek with my finger. So beautiful. She could have been mine. Please open your eyes. I want to look into those eyes I love so much. Please hear me. I want to tell you how you're everything I never knew I wanted. You can't leave me. Not now. Life can't be this cruel. You have to know how I feel. 

            She doesn't have much time left. Help isn't coming. Can you actually feel it when your heart breaks? Something inside me is dying, as surely as the woman I love is dying in my arms. It can't happen. It _won't_. I won't let it. She's been there for me for all of my life that has been worth living. She's been my anchor, my conscience, my emotional compass. She's given me all of herself. It is time I did the same for her. She **will not die.**

            I'm not sure what I'm doing. My wand is in my hand, and I am holding it over her. I know little of healing, but I must do this. It can't end this way. One of those moments is here. Everything is clear. Performing magic is like reaching down deep inside and tapping a piece of your own spirit. This time I need to reach deeper. Its there, a brightly burning flame too long suppressed inside me. It is where she lives inside me. I surrender to it, and let it claim me for its own.

            _Live._

            _I'm nothing without you._

_            I love you._

_            Live._

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Author's Note:  Coming next: Reaching For the Light


	3. Reaching For the Light

Author's Note and Disclaimer: Thanks to everyone that reviewed the first two parts of the story. It always makes an author's day to get feedback! No, I still don't own Harry Potter unfortunately. No profit is being made from this, I just write in JK's world because I love it. 

Part 3: Reaching for the Light

            _Live._

The voice startles me. All has been quiet in this place – I can only describe it as a tranquil silver sea. I've been floating on the current, letting the waves carry me where they will. In the distance, a pure and blinding light grows steadily closer. I don't think I've ever felt more at peace. The sound of the water is soothing, and the promise of….._something_…..is whispered in the air. It is hard to describe the softly voiced thoughts being played through my mind. The closest I can come is love. This feeling is like being surrounded by pure, unadulterated love. No wonder the voice seems so harsh amidst all the calmness.

            _Live. _

            When I first heard it, it sounded incredibly far away. It was almost an echo. After the third time, however, it seemed closer. The voice shatters the tranquility; imperious, demanding. I am reminded of something as I hear it more loudly in my head: A pair of green eyes, a shock of unruly black hair, and a mischievous grin. I know this voice. It is important to me. Realization hits like a thunderbolt.

            _Harry._

I remember now. I am dead. Voldemort killed me, and Harry killed him. It is Harry's voice I hear coming to me over the waves. How can this be? No….could he be dead too? All sense of peace vanishes as this horrible thought strikes home. He couldn't have died. I felt him holding me in his arms. I remember his tears on my face. That was the last thing I remember before waking up in this place. 

            It is strange, this feeling of disembodiment. There are no limbs to move, and so I continue to float. Harry's voice is getting louder in my head; more insistent. Something else seems mixed in with the words – tears? Is he crying? He couldn't be crying. Harry Potter doesn't cry. Everything lurches around me suddenly, and I find myself elsewhere.

            I'm flying. At least I think I am. There is nothing but open air all around me, and I am not falling. There is no sense of movement, just a sense that something is moving towards me. Suddenly I see it – a figure slowly growing closer. I realize with a start that I must be moving, and quickly too, for the pursuing figure is a blur of motion and it is only gaining ground gradually. It will be a few more minutes before it catches me at this rate. Do I want it to? As it comes into perspective, I can see it is….but it can't be…..it is. Harry. How can he be here?

            He reaches his hand out to me, and I try and grasp it. Although we're so close, it feels as if we are reaching across a vast chasm to take each other's hand. I can feel resistance as my fingers stretch, reaching desperately. A distant protest arises in my mind – why would I want to give up this peace, this perfect love? Wouldn't I rather stay? No, I feel myself answer with all of my being. I love Harry. I want this.

            _Touch._

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            I'm not sure what happened when I activated the healing spell. Her wounds started to close. It was working. Part of me could feel her pain; feel the weak beating of her heart. I was desperate, and I didn't know what to do. The last thing I remember before waking up here is willing her pain to stop, trying to join myself with her and share the burden of her suffering.

            Describing where I am now is difficult. An ocean of silver light rolls beneath me, and the air around me is full of whispered promises of everlasting peace and love. I am dimly aware of my body lying somewhere far removed from here. There is pain. What is happening to me? 

            Air rushes past me as I fly. The only thought in my head is to find her. I know she is here, I can feel it. Hermione is all around me, and yet I cannot see her. I must find her. This place can't keep her. She is mine.

            She's here. I can see her, moving away from me. I won't be stopped. It doesn't take long for me to catch up with her. My hand reaches for hers, and she reaches back. So close! Let her go, I think. It isn't her time. Something is fighting me, trying to deny me. I'm not sure what it is; only that it feels…..sad. Don't take her, I plead. Let her live. It isn't right that she die. I love her. The resistance increases, and I know I will not reach her. There's only one thing left to do.

_Take me. Take me instead. Only let her live. _

Time slows to a crawl. I can sense a terrible _awareness, _an awesome consciousness contemplating my thoughts. The resistance crumbles. With a final surge, I stretch out my fingers to her.

            _Touch._

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            Oh God, I hurt. It takes all my energy just to open my eyes, and the stabbing pain in my head when I do makes me regret it. Some of the pain in my body is going away. Someone is squatting over me, and I can see their wand making circles in the air. Whoever it is, they are wearing Order robes. It must be a healer. Something doesn't seem right about all of this.

            Wait. Why aren't I dead? I remember feeling….peace. I knew I was dying. Then something happened. Harry. Harry had suddenly been with me. He had reached out his hand and then…..

            "Where is Harry?" I hear myself ask. It comes out as barely a croak.

            "Don't try and talk yet dear," a voice answers. "You nearly died. As it is, you'll be some time recovering from these injuries. I have done what I can to help the process along. Just lie still." Something about her voice is wrong. She's hiding something. Where is Harry?

            I turn my head to the side, desperate for some sign of him. There's nothing on my left. On my right…..oh God, no. He's there, lying in a pool of blood. Three more healers are frantically working on him, wands weaving an intricate dance over his body. His eyes are closed, and for one terrible moment I think he is dead. Then I see his chest rise and fall slowly, and I start to breathe again. How did he get so hurt?

            Low voices are speaking from a short distance away. I recognize them. One is Professor Dumbledore. The other is Remus Lupin.

            "Have you ever seen anything like this?" That was Remus.

            "No. What he has done….I wouldn't have thought possible. Somehow he has taken most of her injuries into himself. She should have died."

            "Will he live?"

            "I don't know. All we can do now is trust in our healers….and hope. I think Harry has a lot of reasons to live – and I have never met a spirit as bright as his. He will come back if anyone can."

            This can't be happening. Harry….saved me? How? His face looks so peaceful. There is a small smile on his lips. They are putting him on a makeshift gurney – now he is level with me. It hurts to move my arm, but I do it anyway. The healer is scolding me not to move, but I don't care. I take his hand in mine. 

            "You're going to make it through this Harry." I smile through my tears. "No way am I going to let you save me, take all the glory, and then die like some martyr. You hear me?" I release his hand as they take him away. "Please come back to me," I whisper. "There is still so much I have to tell you….."

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Coming next: Those Three Words I Never Said


	4. Those Three Words I Never Said

Author's Note: Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers that have taken the time to give me feedback on this story. A particular thanks to Gil – your review made my day, and convinced me that maybe some people ARE enjoying my work.

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'He needs me  
He doesn't know it, but he needs me

So no matter where he goes

He knows that I'm here

My one ambition is  
To wake him and make him discover  
That he needs me  
I've got to follow where he leads me  
Or else he'll never know that I need him  
Just as he needs me'

-Nina Simone

Part 4: Those Three Words I Never Said

            Everything has gone horribly wrong. As I sit here by his bedside, all I can think is that is should be me lying there. It should be **me! **How did he heal me? Why did he heal me? This isn't right! Why won't he wake up?! 

            The doctors have told me that his physical injuries are completely healed – and that there is no lasting damage. Miraculous, I heard one of them say when he thought I wasn't close enough to hear him. He should have died. No, *I* should have died. It had taken me a week to recover from my own injuries. I had been released with instructions to go home and get plenty of rest. 

Instead I sit here, as I have for the past four days, listening to the sound of the devices keeping him alive. His body is fine. It's his mind that isn't. The finest magical doctors have tried to bring him back from….wherever his mind has gone. And they can't. They say he received an enormous mental shock when he took my injuries into himself. It is why what he did is not normally done. It's far too risky. But he had done it. He had done it for me.

            Each night is getting worse. I wonder if I am losing my mind. I've hardly slept; hardly ate. My parents are worried about me. Ron is worried about me. None of them understand. How could they? The nurses tried to chase me out after visiting hours were over the first two nights, but they know better now. When he wakes up, I will be here. _Please _wake up Harry. I know you heard my whispered words when I thought I was going to die. How did you feel when you heard about my feelings for you? Were you happy? Shocked? I don't know, and it is tearing me apart inside. You have to wake up. I have to _know_. Don't leave me alone. Not now.

            My hand caresses his face. How many times have I wanted to do just this to him? Touch him. Hold him. Kiss him. Look into his eyes and let him see how I feel; let my love envelop us both. I wonder if he can hear me when I talk to him. The sound of my own voice is all that has kept me sane I think. I've spoken about practically everything – small talk mostly. I am too scared to talk about what I want to talk about with him. I, a Gryffindor, too scared to talk to an unconscious man about my love for him. The sorting hat must have made a mistake. It should have been Ravenclaw for me. An involuntary snort of laughter escapes my lips, and I start to wonder how far away I am from a breakdown. 

            It is quiet in his room. I'm not sure how late it is; it must be after one in the morning. The silence is broken only by the sound of his heart monitor. He looks so fragile lying motionless in the bed. All my memories of him run together in my head, and love –horrible, hopeless love, floods my veins until I can hardly breathe. From somewhere I didn't even know existed, resolve stops the tears before they come. No more small talk. The time for that is past.

            My hand reaches out and takes his. He can't see me, but I pray he can feel me. I pray with all that I am that he can _hear _me. He has to hear me.

            "I wasn't ready for you. Everything in my life made sense. I may have been alone, but I knew who and what I was. Smart. Ambitious. A loner. I didn't care that all the other children disliked me; were jealous of me. I didn't let myself care. All that mattered was learning. Absorb everything I could, that was my one passion – before I knew what passion really was! My little world was so in order. Everything was in its place. I wasn't happy, not really. But I thought I could live that way." 

            "Then you ruined everything. From the very beginning you intrigued me. For the first time, I wanted someone to _know _me – to take the time and get to see the girl behind the mind. It scared me. I'd been hurt before when I tried to open up to other people. With you, I didn't care. Around you, I didn't feel alone; I didn't feel different. I wanted a friend. Then you saved me from the troll. I think I may have starting loving you, just a little, even then."

            "Sharing my life with you the past seven years, I have learned what it means to be alive. Life is more than books, and cleverness. You showed me how to love life. For that alone, I owe you more than I can ever repay. But you have shared more than that with me – you've shared **you**. Never asking anything in return, you have been there for me when I thought no one cared. You've given me the best of yourself, and you haven't been afraid to let me see the worst. That was terrible of you, you know that don't you? I couldn't help what happened. I didn't want to stop it. It is a funny feeling for someone like me, when your emotions tell your intellect to shove it." 

            "I love you. Somehow the words don't seem to be enough. I wish…..I wish you could feel what is in my heart. What you have caused to live inside me. Please come back to me. Oh God, if you come back I swear I will tell you everything. Come back Harry. Come back……"

            I can't keep the tears in anymore. You always hear how amazing love is. Why doesn't anyone ever tell you it can hurt so much? I'm so tired. I lay my head down on his chest. I can hear his heart beating. His heart. Harry's heart. Closing my eyes, I sigh. I welcome the oblivion of sleep.

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            I am alone.

            After being alone for so long, you'd think I would be used to the feeling. I'm not sure when it changed; when tolerance became hate, when acceptance became despair. I only know now that I don't want to be alone anymore. Once you've experienced friendships like mine, shared a life with amazing people like I have for the past seven years, you don't want to return to solitude. Yet here I am, alone in this place. 

            I remember touching her hand, and blinding light. Since then, I have been alone in this prison without walls. Alone with my memories. The best have been sweet torture. The worst have made nightmares seem pleasant. Everything seems…..clearer here. I feel like I'm stuck – I can't leave, can't move forward, and yet I can't move back either. The solitude is maddening.

            Thoughts of her are all that have kept me sane. I've replayed how she looked at the Yule Ball a hundred times in my head. I've been forced  to see her lying lifeless in the ministry a hundred times. Her smile has soothed me to sleep night after night as the silver sea grows dark, and the memory of her petrified body has made me scream myself awake every morning. Hermione. I miss her. She's become so much a part of my life that with her gone there is no joy.  My being here now is the price I paid to save her life I imagine. I smile. It was more than a fair trade.

            Something is different this morning. I feel like someone is here with me, but I see no one. Suddenly, three figures fade into view. Three people that I know all too well. So, it is going to be one of _those_ mornings. Before me, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley sit gathered around a Christmas tree. A small child, the boy I was, watches forlornly from his cupboard as presents are opened and laughter shared.

            I try and remain detached as I watch the events of ten years ago replayed before my eyes. This is what life was. This is what life will be again. Loneliness. Exclusion. __

_            Love doesn't last_, a voice whispers in my head. _It only leads to pain. The people that love you hurt you. Learn from this. Remember what this feels like. It is all that awaits you, in the end._

            That doesn't seem right. There is more, I know it. I have felt it, when I held her hand. There have been times I've looked into her eyes and seen my future. Love isn't about fear and pain – for me, it has been….completion.

            A smile makes it way across my face as I recall one of my favorite memories. It is a chilly December morning in our sixth year. I am sipping hot chocolate in the common room with her, and we are snuggled together on one of the sofas for warmth. We aren't talking. A wonderful peace settles over me as she leans her head against my shoulder. All the troubles of my life seem inconsequential. It's just her and I, and I want the moment to last forever. I am….whole.

            _Come back, Harry._

            Slender arms enfold me from behind. Warmth spreads through me. I am not alone. Somehow she is with me, even here. Her voice echoes in the stillness.

            _Come back to me, and I promise you'll never feel alone again._

Love may hurt, but not daring to love is death. I have learned to value life. I will not spend one more second wasting mine. I will tell her what I should have told her long ago. Placing my hands over hers, I close my eyes.

            _I choose to live._

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            Harry Potter opened his eyes.

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            Coming next: Tremble


	5. Tremble

Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who has given me feedback on this piece. It has been an emotional roller-coaster to write, and I am very grateful that apparently some of that emotion is getting through to the readers. If I can make people feel Harry and Hermione's love and heartbreak, even just a little, I feel I have accomplished what I set out to do. I really appreciate all the kind words. They help motivate me in ways you can't imagine. 

Part 5: Tremble

            The first thing I see when I open my eyes is her. How fitting. How perfectly appropriate. The hospital room lighting is not flattering, but right now she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. How long has she been right in front of my eyes, only to be overlooked by me? I have been a fool. Watching her now, sleeping fitfully with her head on my chest, I see everything clearly for the first time. My life has not been about defeating the Dark Lord. My life has been about finding this amazing woman that is here with me now, and through her, learning to love. Love. How easy it is to say it now. How much pain could I have prevented, just by understanding my feelings sooner, speaking sooner? We'll never know now. 

            Smiling, I gently take a strand of her hair in my hand. How she hates her hair. Bushy, plain brown-haired Hermione, I've heard her call herself. I love her hair. Seeing her fight a daily battle with it never fails to bring a smile to my face. She wants so badly to be more than just the smart girl. She thinks she is plain. If only she could see herself as I do. She is radiant. She shines from within, and everyone that feels her warmth is drawn to it. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her see herself through my eyes, as she has helped me to see myself through hers.

            I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't notice she is awake immediately. She is staring at me. Oh God, her eyes. How many times have I stared into those eyes, wanting nothing more than to see her looking at me like she is right now? Always before, when she noticed me staring, I have looked away. Not this time. No more hiding. No more secrets. Let her look into me, and I'll look back. I can still feel her hair between my fingers. There's something in her eyes….she is afraid. Can she doubt, even now, how I feel? _How can she know how I feel, when I have never told her? I have to SAY something. _Deep breath. This is Hermione. Just TALK.

            "I didn't want to need you. I learned to survive by being strong on my own. When you have nobody, you can only rely on yourself. I had been alone so long, so long locked in that cupboard, that I didn't know any other way to be. I wasn't sure how to be anyone's friend. I was scared to depend on anyone too much. I couldn't afford to be weak; couldn't afford to need anyone. There is a part of me I keep locked away, that I don't let anyone see. It keeps me safe. I was secure there, inside myself."

            "I'm not sure when or how it happened. You got in. I fought hard against it, tried to keep my pain inside. It was all I knew how to do. But you wouldn't let me. You were always there to talk, always there knowing just what I needed to hear – and when I didn't need to hear anything you were simply there for me. Every time I wanted to give up, you wouldn't let me. Every time I thought I couldn't take another minute of being the **Boy Who Lived**, you reminded me I am just Harry Potter. You SEE me, even when I can't see myself. You accept me. You have…loved me….even though I have been too blind and too stupid to notice. We had to almost die for me to understand. But now I do. I understand. I didn't want to need you. But I do."

            "I need you Hermione. Not just because you know me better than anyone else. Not just because you keep me sane. And not just because when I am with you, I feel like I can do anything. I need you because being apart from you hurts. I need you because when you're with me, nothing else matters. You make me want to be a better person. I need you Hermione….and I can't go one more day without making sure you know just how much. I don't want to be SAFE anymore. I only want you." I cup her chin in my hand and brush away her tears. I can feel her body trembling at my touch. 

            "Be mine."

            She smiles. I love her smile; the one she gives to no one but me. How could I not have known how she felt before I heard her say the words? What did I do to deserve someone like her?

            "I'm yours."

            I feel my heart racing in my chest as I pull her mouth to mine. Her lips are soft, and sweet, and yielding. I wrap my arms around her and know that I am going to hold her this tight for the rest of my life; that until this moment I have not truly been alive. 

            I don't have to say the words. I know I don't. But I want to. She said them to me, holding back death itself so I could know her heart. I want to say them. And now it seems so easy…..

            "I love you," I breathe into her ear. "I'm sorry it took all of this for me to finally tell you. Forgive me?"

            She pulls away, a serious look on her face. "That depends."

 "On what?"

            "On how good you are at showing me you're sorry." 

            And until the nurse comes in and kicks her out, I show her just how sorry I am.

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            They released me almost immediately after I woke up. My body had already been healed, so there was no reason for them to keep me there. After a few tests to make sure there was no lasting mental damage, I was able to leave. She is coming back with me now to collect my things at school, and to be with me when I say goodbye to the only real home I've ever known.

            It is a serene night on the Hogwarts grounds. Term ended a few days ago. The students have all returned to their life away from school. For the past seven years this strange, wonderful place has been my life. The biggest part of that life is walking right here beside me, with her hand in mine. I know I don't deserve her; don't deserve her loyalty, her love. Being close to me almost cost her everything. She saved me, in all the ways a person can be saved. She never gave up on me. Smiling, I turn to find her looking at me. I'll never understand what she could possibly see in me.

            "Hermione?"

            "Yes?"

            "Why me?"

            "Hold me, Harry."

            She puts her arms around me. It is quiet here near the lake. The light breeze barely moves the trees. I hold her close, feeling her heart beating against me. Her breath is soft against my neck. I'm not sure how to describe how I feel at this moment. We fit together so well. It feels _right to hold her. Natural. She fills my senses until nothing else exists. I softly press my lips to the top of her head. The clouds move slowly across the sky, and we stand holding each other. She tilts her head up to look at me, and I know she can feel everything I am feeling too. _

            "That is why, Harry."

            Her lips meet mine. 

            Nothing more needs to be said.

            _I love you, Hermione Granger. I always will._

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            End notes: This particular idea had been kicking around in my head for at least a month. I knew I wanted to do a first person of Harry and Hermione that really showcases their feelings for each other. Honestly, I didn't think I could pull it off. Even more honestly, I still am not sure I have. I needed to get my own thoughts on the two and how I see them together down in words, and this is the result. Thanks for reading. I may do an epilogue piece for this, but honestly I don't know if it needs one. Until next time!

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